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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter Three
I stood outside the Government Office, the cold wind slicing through the air like sharp knives, mercilessly cutting across my cheeks and chilling me to the bone. The dilapidated doors of the Government Office creaked in the wind, as if whispering secrets about this unresolved case. The identity of Old Zhang loomed over me like a thick fog that I could not dispel; his eerie sleepwalking murmurs and bizarre death intertwined like invisible threads, ensnaring me tightly. I took a deep breath, striving to remain calm, for there were more pressing matters awaiting my attention—the cellar of Fu Lai Inn held seven corpses, each waiting for me to unravel their identities, and perhaps this was the darkest truth of the entire incident.
“Sir, all the bodies have been cleared out,” a panting constable rushed over, his face pale and his eyes filled with a hint of terror. “There are… there are seven in total. Besides Zhao San, the others… they…” He seemed unable to continue, his voice trembling.
A chill gripped my heart as a wave of dread washed over me. Seven! This number far exceeded my expectations; the crimes of Wang Fugui and his wife were more heinous than I had imagined. “What happened to the others?” I forced down my unease and asked in a low voice.
“The others… they’re so decayed that it’s impossible to identify them,” the constable’s voice dwindled to a whisper, as if those rotting corpses stood before him, emitting a nauseating stench.
I nodded, taking a deep breath to steady myself. “Have them properly wrapped and sent to the mortuary. Additionally, send someone to investigate any reports of missing persons between the two counties over the past few years, especially those matching these corpses’ characteristics.”
“Yes!” The constable looked as if he had been granted a reprieve and hurriedly left.
I turned back into the inner office, where a suffocating sense of oppression filled the dimly lit room. Rubbing my temples, I prepared to interrogate Wang Fugui and his wife, hoping to extract more clues from them. Just as I settled down, my advisor stumbled in, his face ashen as if he had seen a ghost. “Sir, it’s terrible! Wang Fugui’s wife… she… she committed suicide by biting her tongue in prison!”
“What?!” I sprang to my feet, shock coursing through me like electricity. How could this happen? Why would she take her own life? Was it out of guilt or was there something more sinister at play?
I rushed to the cell, where a strong metallic scent of blood assaulted my senses. Wang Fugui’s wife lay in a pool of blood, lifeless. Her eyes were wide open, and an eerie smile lingered on her face—as if mocking our incompetence or guarding some unspeakable secret. Wang Fugui knelt beside her body, wailing in anguish; his cries were chilling and unsettling. Yet I sensed an element of artifice in his grief—a hint of insincerity.
“Sir, look at this.” A guard cautiously handed me a note found in Wang Fugui’s wife’s sleeve. The note bore several crooked characters: “There’s more underground.”
My pupils constricted suddenly as a chill raced up my spine. More? What did that mean? Were there other burial sites besides the inn's cellar? Old Zhang's last words echoed in my mind: “It’s all underground…” Could there be a connection between them?
"Take Wang Fugui to the interrogation room!" I suppressed the unease in my heart and commanded in a low voice.
The flickering yellow oil lamp cast distorted shadows on the walls of the interrogation room, adding an air of eerie terror. Wang Fugui sat across from me, his face pale and his eyes darting around as he muttered to himself, "It was all her idea, she forced me..."
"Wang Fugui!" I slammed my hand on the table and shouted sternly, "What does the note left by your wife mean? 'There’s more buried underground,' are there other burial sites?"
Wang Fugui's body trembled violently. He looked up, his eyes filled with fear and despair. Suddenly, he burst into a strange laugh, one filled with hopelessness and madness. "Sir, do you know? The cellar of our inn has been there for a long time. When we bought the place, we discovered that cellar, and inside..." His voice trailed off, becoming increasingly faint as his gaze grew vacant. "Inside... there were already bones... we... we just kept using it..."
"What?!" A jolt of shock ran through me; this answer was completely unexpected. There were already bones in the cellar? What on earth was going on? "Whose bones are they?" I pressed further.
"I don’t know… I really don’t know…" Wang Fugui shook his head weakly, his eyes hollow. "But… ever since we started using that cellar… we… we’ve been having nightmares… dreaming of many people standing at the foot of our bed… watching us..."
I was about to continue questioning him when suddenly a commotion erupted outside. A constable rushed in, panic etched on his pale face as he stammered, "Sir! The… the funeral home… something happened!"
A wave of foreboding washed over me. I immediately headed to the funeral home, and what I saw sent chills down my spine. The seven corpses that had been neatly arranged were now all sitting up, facing the same direction—directly towards Qing Stone Town!
"What… what is going on?" Even the experienced coroner looked pale and began to stutter.
I forced myself to remain calm and carefully examined the bodies. Their postures were identical, with stiff hands reaching forward as if controlled by some invisible force. More unsettling was that their fingers pointed towards the ground, as if indicating something.
At that moment, Zhang Lao's last words echoed in my mind: "It's all underground..." Suddenly, I realized something and immediately dispatched someone to investigate the historical records of Qing Stone Town.
Soon enough, a shocking truth emerged. Fifty years ago, Qing Stone Town had suffered a Great Fire that destroyed half of the town. The location of Fu Lai Inn had originally been a temple. More importantly, it was said that beneath that temple lay many Vengeful Spirits...
I looked at the file in my hand and recalled what Wang Fugui had said, a terrifying thought gradually taking shape. Could it be that there was an even greater secret hidden behind all of this?
Just then, a cold wind suddenly swept through, extinguishing all the lights in the room. In the pitch-black darkness where I could see nothing, I seemed to hear someone whispering in my ear, "Come, the secrets of the underground are waiting for you..."
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